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On Guadalcanal Barney holds a strong point alone against hundreds of Japanese, kills 22 of them and saves the life of a wounded buddy. His reward: the Silver Star and a dose of malignant malaria. For the skull-shattering headaches that accompany the first bouts of fever, medics prescribe morphine; and by the time the malaria appears to be gone, so is Barney's moral resistance. He is an abject addict. But why? The script states explicitly the physiological basis of his addiction, but about the psychological causes it can only hem and haw: "The roar of the crowd ... is quite a narcotic . . . but morphine is a bad substitute."
After that the story's morale goes to pieces almost as fast as Barney's. The camera dotes on scenes of degradation with such lickerish delight that the rolled sleeve becomes a more important symbol of sensuality than the lifted skirt. As for the film hero's cure, it can no more be taken seriously than a tour of the haunted house in an amusement park, although Ross himself has not taken drugs for ten years. As the first of three opium operas that have been scheduled since narcotics became a suitable subject for Hollywood films (TIME, Dec. 24), Monkey on My Back suggests strongly that it is already high time Hollywood kicked the habit.
*Who filed suit two weeks ago for $5,000,000 damages against United Artists and Essaness Associates on grounds that the advertising for the picture depicts him as an unregenerate drug addict.